


Well if it's a Fight You Want

by A_Hippo_Named_Saelym (Kairacahra1869)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Barbed Penis, Cat!Connor, Conneko and Barkus AU, Dog!Markus, Fighting Kink, Frottage, Knotting, M/M, Markus is into that, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Rough Sex, Spanking, This is NOT bestiality, bottom!Connor, brief genital spanking, but they still fight, ruts, they are humans with animal ears tails (naughty bits) and instincts, they fight, they fuck, top!markus, violent "foreplay"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 01:51:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairacahra1869/pseuds/A_Hippo_Named_Saelym
Summary: Connor is soon to start his heat and take shelter in an abandoned building's rafters to ride it out. Markus sneaks away from his pack cause he could feel his rut coming on and doesn't want to take his aggression out on his packmates.Perhaps there are better ways to meet a person.





	Well if it's a Fight You Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mimoru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimoru/gifts), [MahoShoujoEren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MahoShoujoEren/gifts), [Ren01r](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ren01r/gifts), [Nanimok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanimok/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Conneko and Barkus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18874636) by [KnightWriter_0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightWriter_0/pseuds/KnightWriter_0). 



> Had a blast writing this for the rk1k discord server I'm in and decided to post it here so it can be memorialised. Gotta also give props to the original work of the, as I affectionately dubbed it, Conneko and Barkus AU, TwinKnightWriter. AKA, my sister from another mister.
> 
> I edited it as best I could to make it better suited for reading, but apologies for any errors or awkward spacing and word usage. If you think I should add any more tags, lemme know.

Connor is positioned so that he's hidden but not immediately seen and goes into prowler mode when he sees this dog man walk in like he owns the place. Connor assumes that this man was sent by someone, one of his rivals because he can sense the newcomer's change in scent and can tell his rut is going to begin soon. Connor knows his heat will come onto him any moment, but he can use his current hiding spot to his advantage and perform a surprise attack. Hopefully, this man will go down within the first few punches.

Markus, on the other hand, is tensed and waiting for the other inhabitant to make themself known. His position as his pack's alpha allows him to sense when a potential threat is around the corner and, while he's normally against fighting and resorting to violence, his vision is starting to turn red and he welcomes the chance to maybe get the rut over with quicker, with a good fight. Hopefully, his opponent lasts long enough.

For a few moments, all is silent. Connor has spent years training his body to move smoothly and gracefully around objects and, with his natural racial ability, he is overhead the newcomer within a moment, with the man none the wiser, still sniffling at the air and twitching his ears trying to pick up on Connor's position. Connor crouches, back poised to make the leap. He doesn't have any weapons with him, but the man is- stupidly- unprotected and clearly sure of himself, as he makes no moves to cover any of his more vital spots. Connor shuffles a bit more, eyeing a loose piece of debris and debating on using it. Deciding that it would be useless as a weapon, he instead makes a gamble and carefully throws it, hard, against the far beam. It skips and careens in a different direction and both the sound of it hitting the beam and it falling into the far corner, has the man reacting exactly how Connor assumed he would. The man looks up to the beam Connor hit and then goes to pounce in the direction of the fallen debris. Connor, meanwhile, was already in the air, hands out, though claws back. He has no time to be performing a kill, especially so close to his heat, but if he can aim right and time it perfectly, he can grab the man's head and use his forward momentum, Connor's own falling momentum, and his upper body strength to smash the man's head into the ground and knock him unconscious. that should give Connor enough time to run and get to a better-protected post.

Markus allowed his instincts to partially take over when he heard something ping off the beam in front of and above him. He let them take over more as he propelled his body in the direction of the sound across the room. It was as he was taking his first step that those same instincts alerted him to a presence barreling closer and closer to him, so Markus let the red haze completely overtake his vision. His body, now without an active mind to slow it down, turned the step into a skip and used the quickstep to turn itself towards the incoming assailant. A single sky blue eye, ringed with red met with deep earthy brown hues in its peripheral. For a brief moment, that body remained suspended in the air, eyes belaying shock at the sudden movement, before the figure twisted his upper body, the arms originally reaching for Markus' head quickly tucked and shifting around the assailants own head, blocking Markus' incoming elbow. The elbow makes contact, not exactly hitting the head, but ramming hard enough into the caged arms that they snap back into the other man's face. normally, that sort of power and strength would be enough to fracture a bone or two and fling any victim into a wall. however, Markus' opponent seems to be made from a tougher breed, as he barely flinches and rights himself to prevent his body from achieving any distance. he wobbles a bit, as he lands, but he sticks the landing anyway. A slight shake of the man's head and a quick bounce on the balls of his feet, and he's flying forward again

Connor curses himself for judging his opponent on his appearance. That underestimation made him lose most of his advantage. The hit the man landed on him blurred his vision for a moment, so Connor did the only thing he could think of and closed his eyes. His eyes were better suited in the dark, but with his heat coming on, they would be the first to fail anyway. Connor doesn't quite let his body fall into instinct, worried that slipping up too much control, may cause him to slip into heat much earlier. He shakes his head, and bounces to get his bearings, and then charges forward towards the sound of a rather pleased sounding growl.

Now that Connor knows this man is quick on his feet and rather agile, he knows to be more alert. However, if that hit proved anything, it was that while this man was quick and agile when he wanted to be, his body was much better suited for brawls and power moves. Connor could hear his mentor scolding him for charging so close to an assailant made for close hand combat, but Connor also remembers grappling with other members of his pride, specifically a move his partner pulled on him that shook him out of his instinctual rage, threw off his entire balance, and knocked him out cold. It was a dirty trick, but effective and Connor  _ did not  _ want to prolong this. So, when Connor sensed he was near enough to the man, he stood up and waited for the man to inevitably swing for his face or chest. This time, Connor's calculations were correct and his opponent did precisely what Connor figured he would do. When the man swung at his face, Connor dropped into a roll, twisting diagonally towards his opponent and under his arm. When he was sure he cleared the most immediate attack, Connor squinted his eyes open, just enough to see where his opponent was currently facing and smirked when he saw the man's back partially turned towards him. It was definitely luck that the man chose to swing with his left fist again, but Connor figured that was his dominant arm, and gambled that this would be the best side to aim for. However, Connor didn’t have much time to waste, the man was still moving, to put space between them and face Connor, but Connor wasn't aiming for the man's rather broad back, nor his vulnerable thighs, ankles, or feet. No, right near his hand, the man's tail twitched in his direction, and Connor grabbed it and pulled himself towards the man with it. The effect was immediate.

Markus felt like someone had simultaneously dumped his tail in a bin of ice, poured molten lava down his back, and shot electricity up his spine. The pain had him roaring his agony, mouth foaming slightly as he panted and growled and twitched. His instinct was to shake the offender off, but the man had a strong grip and remained firmly attached to his tail. Markus went to reach for the man but he rolled fully behind him and punched him right at the base of his tail. The pain cleared Markus out of the rut-induced fog he was in, his vision no longer hidden by a red veil and any sound from his throat cut short. He felt his body move, not on its own, and then had about 5 seconds of pure relief as the pressure on his tail eased, though it quickly gave way to horror as it allowed him a moment to realise he was airborne and quickly about to meet the ground again. The world turned upside down and Markus couldn't think, didn't think, he just remembered being in a similar position before, though in a much less dire situation, and threw his arms over his face with pure muscle memory. This worked in his favour, as not a moment later his body met the cold unforgiving ground, and Markus felt his vision shake and give out. He had a moment to catch a whiff of something delicious before he faded with the rest of the world.

Connor almost screamed in anger, something he hasn't done since he was a mere child when he saw that his opponent had his face covered on the ground. He managed to keep it mostly in, and jumped backwards, ready to reassess the situation and gamble another move. However, his opponent didn't make any move to get up. His opponent was, rather, shockingly still. Connor swivels his ears and squints, trying to see or hear any movement, but the man's breathing was rapidly evening out. Connor took a cautious step towards the door, and then another, before booking it out of the building. Holy crap, he couldn't believe that actually worked for him, and with a moment to spare! Connor ran as far as he could, about three blocks and a couple of corners before the adrenaline faded and he was left a shaking mess, although, Connor couldn't tell if he was shaking from the rather lucky break or if it was his heat finally settling in, ready to strangle him in its sweltering grip. Connor felt himself listing to the side and had a moment to think  _ yes, that's definitely the heat catching up to me _ before he clumsily caught himself on the side of random bus stop booth. He took in deep, shuddering breaths and on his last one, he smelled- practically tasted- something in the air so delicious, he keened and arched his back. He was unable to put two and two together and found himself pinned against the booth by a panting and energetic alpha.

Markus came to with a gasp and, upon recalling the moments before he met darkness, sprung into a crouched position, pivoting and searching for his assailant. Looking around, he didn't see the man and a part of him wilted in sorrow at being abandoned. Fortunately, the rational part of his brain was mostly back and functioning, and he sniffed at the air. Ears perking up, and tail wagging a bit in excitement, Markus realised that the smell of the man had not faded, which meant he was probably still relatively close. Perhaps if Markus was in a normal state of mind, he would count his blessings that his opponent let him live and left, but Markus was thrumming at the memory of the, albeit short, fight he was in. It was  _ brilliant _ . Rare was it that someone could hold their own in a fight against him. Rarer still for them to actually get the one up on him. And Markus wanted  _ more _ . Sniffing around some more, Markus finally picked up on the sweeter scent of someone about to begin a heat mingling with the man's overall smell. The smell and the lingering memory of the fight sent a different kind of molten heat down into his loins and Markus growled lowly to himself as allowed his hand to palm at the growing bulge in his pants. Markus casually walked out of the building, still palming himself ever so slowly and leisurely, as he followed the scent. He's heard of people meeting on the streets in a rut/heat, partaking in a sort of one-night stand to ease the burden. He wonders if this man would be up to it or, at the very least, up for another round of fighting. He really hopes so, and his palm works a little faster on his groin at the thought of pinning this man, whether in a fight or with his cock. He walks a little faster, the smell getting stronger as he nears a corner bend.

He huffs out a gleeful bark when he rounds the corner and sees his former opponent panting against a bus stop booth. In the natural daylight, Markus can better see the man’s appearance, and Markus whistles lowly to himself in pleasure as he takes in the other man’s form. From where he stood, he could see the soft tufts of hair slightly curling from the dampness of the man’s sweat, and his skin was so fair that Markus could clearly see the flush staining his face and upper body with a delicious ruby hue. Not that looks alone would have stopped Markus from propositioning the man, but Markus found himself all the more attracted to this man and hopeful for any sort of prolonged exposure to him. 

Markus removed his hand from his crotch, shuddering in want, and stalked forward. His man hadn't noticed him or was perhaps unable to notice him, and Markus hoped he wasn't too addled to not be able to respond. Markus planned to go slow in his approach, to give the man time to feel his presence, but then the man started slumping, and Markus felt himself rush forward, instead, pinning the man against the booth. Mentally, he winced, apologising lowly for the rough handling. The man whined low in his throat and Markus answered with a growl of his own, trying to convey his arousal and hope for reciprocation.

When Connor felt his back slam up onto the booth, he ignored how his body reacted positively to being crowded by a large male, and instead tried to focus on as much as he could, recognising that his previous opponent was currently crowding him and Connor was in no position to do much of anything about it. But then the man in front of him spoke.

"Hey," he practically growled, though even with his mind slipping, Connor was aware enough to know it wasn't in anger or malice. "I can tell you're losing it, so I will make this short. I'm Markus, I'm in a rut and I really want to fight you. Or fuck you. Both would be preferable. Sound cool with you?"

Connor felt his brain pause, and he lifted his head a bit to focus on the man's, Markus', face. It was a very handsome face and Connor purred, pleased. He was definitely "losing it". Then the man shifted his body, pressing more of him against Connor and Connor jerked forward, trying to feel more of him, more of this man's hard muscles and if Connor could just shift his hips a bit more-

He doesn't get to as a large calloused hand stroke down his face and under his chin, forcing it back up- Connor doesn't even remember looking away to begin with- and forcing eye contact. The man's prominent eyebrows are scrunched, his eyes- either Connor is truly  _ lost _ or they are actually two different colours- are sharp and intense and his mouth is opened, panting softly.

"Please stop moving." His voice is pitched so low, Connor mostly stops moving because of the intent rather than because he actually heard him. " _ Good boy, there's a good boy. _ " that Connor hears, and he feels himself expel an obscene amount of slick at those words. "You can't fight in this state... May I fuck you?  _ Please? _ "

And the way he  _ asks _ , the way he lists forward himself on that "please", as if he's moments away from losing himself as well, and proceeding anyway, with or without Connor's say, well, it does something to Connor that he may have to meditate on later, when he's less addled. 

Connor sighs, and swallows a few times, his mouth dry and sore- shit, had he been mewling this whole time?- before he finally has enough moisture in his mouth to verbalise a reply. If he had been a little bit clearer-minded, he might've responded with a sultry  _ well since you asked so nicely _ or, going off what Markus had asked of him earlier, he might have headbutted the man and taunted him with a  _ perhaps I should fuck you, as I won our last bout, but I'm a fair man, so if you can pin me, I'll let you take me _ . But Connor is rapidly losing his senses and, damn, but he does want this man in all senses of the word. So, he settles for bobbing his head in an affirmative matter and hissing out a needy, but clear “yeeesss” and then leans his head back, presenting the right side of his neck.

Markus doesn't hesitate any longer, permission granted and neck given access to, he latches on with fervour, careful not to let his sharp canines tear into it. He doesn't want to accidentally mark the man. As he is working up and under the man's jaw, he pushes forward, shifting his bulge so that it could finally, finally, get some friction and carelessly ruts against the man's own bulge. They're going rough, the man claws at Markus' arms, tearing through the thin cloth of his thin jacket and settles on his upper forearms, claws not-quite digging into him. Markus hears the man moan his name and realises he never got a name in return.

Breaking the rather hard suction he had on the man's neck, he licked a couple of strips up and peppered some chaste kisses on his jawline, before asking the man for his name.

_ "Mar...Markusss" _ The man replies.

"Hmm, you say my name so damn well, but what's your name, sweetheart?" The man just mumbles his name again, sighs and picks up his pace grinding.

"Damn, took too long, huh?" It was a shame, but probably wasn't so important as markus could feel himself slipping back into his rut, himself. He breaks away from the man for a bit, shushing him as he whines and clings to him, and tries to focus enough on their surroundings to find a better place to fuck. The nearest thing, besides the rather flimsy booth, is the building wall, and Markus makes the executive decision to throw the man over his shoulder and rush them to it. Pushing at the wall of the building to make sure it wouldn't give, Markus puts his about-to-be-rutmate down and tries to divest them of their pants, at the very least.

Markus, he guesses, isn't quick enough and takes too long getting back to the panting and dripping man in front of him, as he feels his face get cupped by sweaty palms, and a hard nip under his jaw. He growls, and feels himself slip even more. Deciding that their pants being off was more important than pants being intact, Markus hopes the man won't mind too much when he's aware again, and tears at both of their pants. His jeans strained, but the zipper was no match for him and they tore off without any fuss. Markus hissed at the release of pressure on his dick, and tore through the cloth of his boxers to free the engorged member. The man saw Markus' freed dick and moved one of his hands from Markus' face and gripped the hard flesh in his hand. Markus rewarded him with a palm massage to his crotch, before working on the man's pants. They were sweats and, fortunately, made of a much thinner material, so when Markus pull, they stretched with it but eventually grew too taut and tore. Markus tore and tore until the sweats were able to be pulled off the man's front and rear end. The man wore no underwear, and Markus whined in appreciation, hands gripping at the man's ass and massaging the slight globes of flesh. Markus felt and heard a glob of slick leave the man and splatter on his hands and the floor, and with the barrier of cloth being gone, the sweet smell that had been slowly wrapping its scent around markus, wafted in waves, clear and heady and, with that, Markus' mind fully slips as his rut takes over in full force

Huffing and panting, Connor and Markus grind to the best of their ability against each other, no finesse or rhythm, just lost in the feeling and their freed members, and Connor's rough hand, rubbing rapidly against each other. Markus' hand attempts to turn Connor's body, but it slips on his slick and only manages to rub against the swollen opening peeking between pale mounds of flesh. Connor bucks into the hand, separating their dicks, and startles when Markus bucks forward to bring them back together. The motion of Markus grinding and the pressure of his body increases the speed and pressure of Connor's twitching and sopping wet hole rubbing against Markus' stray hand. Instinctually, Connor grips Markus' member more and picks up the pace in his pleasure and the two find themselves reaching their first orgasm like this.

The orgasm does nothing to sate their bodies, and they find themselves rapidly moving against each other, trying to chase that satisfaction. A second orgasm nears, for them both, and Connor feels the base of Markus' cock start to swell, in preparation for the eventual knot. He grinds faster, and almost lashes out when Markus suddenly pulls back with a hiss. Markus had been enjoying the friction until suddenly it was  _ painful _ . It was a rather disheartening reminder that there was a reason you don't partake in frottage for long with the cat people. While Markus' penis was swelling and getting ready to knot, Connor's, too, was preparing itself for penetration, though in a more brutal way, its barbs becoming prominent in Connor's arousal.

However, their abrupt separation worked in their favour as with it, the support Markus had on Connor was gone and he slid to the floor. His body, instinctively, went on all fours and Markus, seeing the universal position of a bitch ready for mounting, wasted no time dropping to his knees as well. With Connor no longer gripping him, Markus was freely able to manhandle his body into a better position. Turning his ass away from the wall, and out in the open, Markus kneed Connor's thighs apart, and forced his hips to go low. Connor, despite keenly wanting to be mounted, fought back, his own innate fighter instincts howling in anger at being pinned. Instinctively, his legs begin kicking out and his claws lengthen as they try to claw him out of Markus' grip.  Markus growls, angrily, and swats at the offending hands. When they resort to scratching and actually draw some blood, Markus loosens his grip on Connor's hips and catches both of his hands around the wrists, pinning them to the middle of Connor's back. Connor retaliates by kicking harder at Markus' thighs, as strongly as he can what with being practically pressed against the floor, and Markus tsks in disappointment.

Manoeuvring Connor's hands, so that he could use one of his own to keep his wrists pinned, Markus uses his now free hand to force Connor's legs back under him. He then proceeds to lay a few, heavy smacks to his thighs and ass. There was no rhythm or method to them, Markus' just needed Connor to know his place, and understand that his violent actions would have violent consequences. Connor whined and moaned under the blows, his body unable to bow away- or toward- them under the heavy arm of Markus. He could feel more slick pool out of him at each blow. Seeing Connor's reaction, Markus has a moment of clarity, staring at Connor's reddening ass and thighs, and then at the dripping hole between them. He lands a blow on the puffy rim, lighter but still with some force, and Connor screams. His scream peters off into insistent mewls, body shivering from the stimulation. Connor moves his thighs, spreading them wider and presenting his hole for more. Markus obliges and swats the hole a few more times, rubbing and dipping into it slightly between each swat. Connor turns to putty underneath the assault, drooling mouth wide open and eyes fully glazed and unfocused. His hole is wide and dripping and, finally, Connor is still enough that Markus can line up his member and slam in.

With Markus fully in rut mode, the pace is rough, fast and unforgiving at the very start. He frees Coonor's hands, so he can use both to prop himself up over Connor. He growls possessively, the feel of Connor's warm and slick insides, gripping his member so tight, has his mind circling around a single thought. This is where he was supposed to be. This is hole was made for him. Soon, when he fully knotted Connor, his seed would make it so. He would make sure that to fuck him so good, that his seed would reach places so deep within him, it'd remain a part of Connor forever. Markus would claim this hole, this man, and he would  _ ruin _ this ass for anyone else. The more he slammed into the hole, the more Markus' thoughts revolved around filling it with his load, over and over until the man was so fat with his seed, he'd have to stay under him, legs spread, for eternity as he would be too heavy to move. Markus growled and that image, his pace speeding up even more, and Connor was left, pliant, under the assault. Though he might be practically immobilised, he was for sure not silent in his approval of Markus' current pace. Markus was thick, and he was long and Connor felt his cock reaching places that hadn't been reached before, that he hadn't even known about before and all he could think was that, he never wanted to be left empty every again. Every pull of Markus' member, every stab forward with its reentry, had Connor feeling as though his very soul was being pulled out and rammed back in only to be pulled out further. His mind was so addled, it wasn't even Markus' that was on his mind, but the actual cock giving him this out of body experience. Connor simultaneously wanted this cock to bring him to his climax and also never end its assault. He couldn't even imagine, currently, going on through life without its presence burrowed deep within him, now that he's had it.

A particularly hard thrust had Connor curling his toes and his tail, normally wrapped around his waist to prevent it from alerting his presence, unfurls itself and loosely wraps itself around Markus' neck. Markus moans, and thrusts forward, grinding his swelling base against the rim. They're getting closer to the end, and the slight pressure around his neck brings him much closer to the edge than he was before. Addled, but not enough to know that if he orgasms too soon, he won't be able to feel his man's warm flesh around his knot, he loosens his grip on the ground next to Connor's head, and straightens his back. He can't thrust as sharply, much to his and Connor's chagrin, but he can massage at the base of Connor's tail and that more than makes up for it, if the cut off growl of disappointment replaced by mewls of pleasure is anything to go by.

Stroking the tail has a double effect, not only increasing the stimulation for Connor but also making his body go more and laxer. The result is that he relaxes enough that Markus is finally able to shove the first half inch of his knot into Connor's hole. They both gasp and sigh in anticipation. Connor, subconsciously, tenses in pleasure and Markus, with a firm grip, massages the base of Connor's tail some more. The tail tightens around his neck some, but the loosening effect of Connor's body is still achieved and Markus is able to sink another half inch into the hole. Markus continues this, mesmerised by his length disappearing into the hole, pace much slower as he rocks back and forth, steadily massaging the base of Connor's tail, Connor's tail itself alternating between tightening and loosening with each massage and thrust. Eventually, and with pleased growls echoing with each other, Markus is able to fully thrust his knot into Connor's hole. For another moment, things are still for both of them. Connor lets out a full-bodied sigh at purrs, even fuller than before. His tail is firmly around Markus' neck and the slight pressure, plus the wonderful heat fully around his member, has him feeling floaty with pleasure. Besides the instinctual quick thrusts of Markus' hips, and the returned clenching as Connor's body reacts to them, all is quiet as if the very area around them is getting prepared for the final moment.

Markus shifted, trying to get a better grip on Connor's hip while maintaining a steady rhythm with the hand on Connor's tail base, and the shift had Connor howling in ecstasy as his prostate, ignored up until this point, was suddenly assaulted with nonstop pressure from Markus' knot. The pleasure was so sudden that any warning of his upcoming orgasm was lost in the waves of it suddenly crashing on him. Eyes rolling back, his mouth mumbling a word, Markus' name, repeatedly, Connor found himself shaking with the force of his orgasm and clenching tightly around the knot inside of him, now so large it was almost painful when it would tug backwards. The abrupt orgasm from Connor caused his tail to tighten much more around Markus' neck than it had up until this point, and the asphyxiation was putting Markus into a wonderful headspace. Body still moving on instinct, when Markus finally reached the edge, it was euphoric. He felt as though his entire being condensed and expanded with the orgasm, his mind floating in a sort of high as he emptied a heavy load into the warm and spasming body beneath him. Spurt after spurt, Markus' cock twitched, but his knot was firmly in place and his seed stayed filling Connor.

Eventually, Connor came down first and let his body go lax under Markus. His tail loosened and looped down around Markus' thick thigh. With the removal of Connor's tail, Markus felt the blood rushing up into his head, now free to flow. It made him dizzy and he slumped forward, catching himself at the final moment before he crushed Connor. He still felt like he was floating and he let loose a few dopey sounding chuckles as he laid above Connor. Connor, now covered by Markus, reaches a hand behind him to rub at the man's head, content with the weight and steady pressure of the knot inside of him and, blessedly, aware for the moment. His heat wasn't over, as he wasn't sickened by the combined sweat and slick all over his body. And from the way the pulsing of Markus' dick was slowing down, the knot will shrink soon and Markus would soon be pulling out and they'd be ready for round two. Or three, if they count the frottage session in the beginning. 

Markus eventually comes down from his own orgasm-induced high, and nuzzles at the man's neck. They lay there in easy, companionable silence, just nuzzling and petting each other as they waited for either the knot to go down or one of their heat/ruts to start back up.

Connor makes a sound like he just remembered something. "Connor," he says.

Markus, not expecting to suddenly be speaking, answers with a smart " _ Hmmngfff? _ "

Connor chuckles and pats the man's face placatingly. "My name. It's Connor."

It dawns on Markus then. "Oh. Oooh. Ok, well, um. Hey Connor. I'd say it was nice to meet you but you tried to strangle me when we first met."

Connor scoffs. "Something you clearly aren't that miffed about." He wiggles his ass, still stuck to Markus, for emphasis.

"Point. So... My knot should be going down soon... Remember my earlier proposition?"

"Ugh, we just fucked I don't want to remember anything right now."

"And yet you could remember me asking you for your name?"

Connor clicks his tongue. "It was in preparation for round two. Give  _ you _ something to scream and moan."

"I don't know, I think I was doing fine with what I had. You know, calling you sweetheart and..." Connor shivers when Markus' stubble drag up his neck as he brings his lips closer to Connor's ears to murmur the rest. " _ Good boy. _ "

Connor's body twitches so violently at that, he feels the signs of the next wave of his heat, that had been so far away, come back with a vengeance. Markus laughs smugly, clearly smelling the returning heat, but Connor won't be outdone and he does, actually, remember Markus' earlier proposition. Careful of the knot still in him, though definitely losing its bulk, Connor clenches around the member and propels himself into Markus. The effect is that he's able to shift part of Markus off the ground and he uses his surprise to his advantage, wrapping strong arms behind him around Markus torso and back, locking his hands together, and turning them both so that he can slam Markus into the ground, himself on top. This causes the member inside of him to delve much deeper with the force and gravity, but the momentary pleasure that rockets through Connor's body is just an added bonus to the satisfying whoosh and "oof" of Markus getting the air knocked out of him.

Connor recovers first with pleased chuckle and Markus can hear the mirth in his voice when he asks. "Say, Markus.  _ You ever wrestled someone while you were knotted _ ?" And damn him if that didn't make Markus vision leak red for a bit, his heart rate picking up as his rut made itself known in its intrigue and arousal.

Markus wraps his arms around Connor and tightens. In a low voice he growls out "The moment my knot slips, I'm going to have you pinned and panting for me again."

Connor laughs, amused, and tests the give on those muscled arms. "You'll have to catch me and pin me first."

Markus doesn't shoot back with the obvious observance of Connor's current position. Instead, he growls loud and appeased with the prospect of the challenge Connor's giving him. He's going to have to remember to ask for this man's number. He's definitely not letting him get away from him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 22 June 2019: No edits, but holy crap guys this got fanart!! Omigosh, I can't believe one of my stories has reached that level! Thank you so much [Megickitt](https://twitter.com/Megickitt/status/1142608103822651392)!!! I'm forever grateful and dying. 
> 
> And, since I'm here, I should also link the discord server I'm in, cause I forgot to when I posted this.  
> [RK1K Server](https://discord.gg/wxujBVF)


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